


Modern Myth

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fingering, First Time, Kink, Knotting, M/M, Rimming, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock experiment with how their relationship has to change when John finally recovers from a disease, but has a few remaining side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Myth

John had undergone the treatments for over a month before Sherlock decided to bring it up. Them, their relationship. A month of letting John have space while his body reverted back from the disease, a month to be sure the treatment had worked to the best of its ability. A month, an entire month, without John in his bed. Which wouldn't have been that bad, if it hadn't been for the six months prior that Sherlock had not been allowed to sleep with him while he was in the hospital being prepared for the treatment.

If there was a hell, Sherlock was sure this was it, and while he couldn't deny he probably deserved hell, he really wished it could wait for him to be dead first. John had been just out of reach ever since the attack and it was driving him mad. He couldn't last like this, he just couldn't. But now John was better, and that meant he wouldn't. His seven months of hell were finally, finally done with.

“John,” Sherlock called to his flatmate, anxiously waiting for him to come down the stairs. 'One month', he'd said, 'give me one month, and then, then we'll talk, and I'll figure out how things work. And yes, you can ask questions. But give me one month, and wait for me to finish saying things before you ask everything.'

It hadn't been a promise that things would go back to the way things were, but it was enough. Enough to keep him from forcing answers out of John, enough to keep him silent for that long month. Truth be told, he was just glad that John was back in his own bed, at the very least under the same roof as Sherlock. Of course, that didn't stop his mind from wondering what permanent alterations had taken place, what things the doctor was testing himself for.

At long last, John came down the stairs, looking like he'd just- got out of bed. Sherlock's brow furrowed. John was in his pajamas, hair messed from lying down, but his eyes were as alert as they ever were. This was not the face of someone who had just woken up, like Sherlock had assumed. This was someone who had woken up hours ago and just laid in bed. It wasn't a very John thing to do, something had changed, perhaps permanently, with the disease, even now he was cured. The little voice in the back of his head spoke up, too. 'If this has changed, perhaps other things have as well, and he had reason to stay away from you, physically, for a month.'

Sherlock gave him a nod in greeting before turning to fix the tea. John knew what day it was, the one month mark, and would start talking without prompting from Sherlock. He would do it, Sherlock had to believe he would, had to trust him, and if it meant he hadn't slept in 28 hours waiting for the moment, he could still wait a few more minutes while John readied himself to speak.

“I'm not the same.” John's voice was soft as his sipped his tea, yet it still rang loud in the silence of their kitchen. “I changed. Permanently. Just some things, chemical things in the brain, mostly. Higher metabolism, more constant adrenaline... So I'll be more fit, eating more, and sleeping less. But, that's not all that's permanent.” His voice trailed off as he looked around the room, not meeting Sherlock's eyes.

“Physically, two things changed. I- well, My prostate shrank, or moved, or, I don't know what, but I can't, it doesn't feel good to- anymore. And the other, well...” this was bringing a flush to his face, most likely of embarrassment, “I have a knot, now.”

Sherlock merely stared, waiting for John to continue, to say something else, something more. A month of no physical contact surely meant more than a few dozen words worth of information. Surely it did. It had to. Or else, well, Sherlock didn't really know what else he could say, he didn't know what to ask other than 'How did you find out?'.

What did you ask your boyfriend when he became a werewolf, and then got cured of lycanthropy? There wasn't a set list -he'd checked, but no one had really been in this situation before, John was the first gay man to be a werewolf and change back as far as Sherlock could tell-, the internet was really no help, and his brother was even less.

“I understand if you want to end that part of our relationship because of this.” the voice continued, resignation, pain, worry, fear, all far too present in it. “I know you've always topped, and, I can't bottom anymore, so if you want to find-”

“No.” Sherlock cut off those words before John could say them. He knew where that little line of conversation was going, and he wouldn't hear another word of it. “We'll just have to practice you topping me. True, no one's done it before, but I have fingered myself before, and found it quite pleasant, so John, I suggest you finish your tea and shag me. It's been seven months, five days, and approximately 3 hours since I last had the chance to bring you off. I've missed you, and changing which is the dominant partner during sex is not going to change that.”

John was speechless, which was just as well for Sherlock as he stalked over to kiss him. It wasn't rough, but it was firm and passionate, and soon John was returning it with unbridled passion, forcing his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, moving it past passion into something raw and dirty. It was like kissing a whole new man, and yet there was the unmistakable taste of John on his tongue.

Sherlock moaned into it, feeling his control slipping as John dominated him in such a delicious way. He hadn't known having someone else in control could feel this good. Then again, he had never had anyone else he'd ever wanted to let control him before. Had it really taken him seven months to find out just how amazing John could be? Passion, force like this couldn't be just a leftover effect from a disease, it didn't alter his brain that much or he would have reverted to animal instincts of finding a female to mate with, not Sherlock. No, this was something much deeper, and it sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine when he realized that this was something John had wanted to do all along, and yet had refrained from doing because of his own personal preferences.

“John, John, bedroom, now.” he spoke the words with gasps and moans, head falling back away from the ravaging kiss. He needed to catch his breath, and, after feeling John's teeth biting into his now-exposed neck, he knew he needed to get naked as well. The sooner the better. Just the feel of John's hands gripping through his clothing was so much different in so many perfect ways. Or maybe it was the fact he hadn't felt them for over half a year, all the while dreaming about what it would be like to be held in the army doctor's arms again. That might have had helped his body gain a bit of its bias.

\- - -

On the bed, Sherlock was on his hands and knees, naked, hard, and wanting. He could feel John's eyes on him, and knew this would be a first he'd never forget. It wouldn't matter how often they did this, feeling so exposed for John, on display for him, for the first time, despite the length of their relationship. Why hadn't he don't this before? Oh yes, because he had been quite distracted by John's ass, and the different things he could do to it to explore the possibility of John doing the same to him.

Like now. John was finally on the bed behind him, he could feel the warm breath on his ass cheeks, and it made him twitch in arousal. Why had he never thought of this before? Of letting John -oh dear lord, he was starting, kissing and biting his ass and it was amazing. His mind stopped analyzing how he got there to start focusing on what was happening. John was slowly getting closer to having his tongue at his ass hole, fingers gripping his ass cheeks hard as he spread it open to give him access. Slowly his tongue teased over the puckered entrance, eliciting a moan from Sherlock that accompanied him pressing his hips back, desperate for more.

John gave it to him, the tonguefuck gentle, and teasing. He was being considerate, Sherlock knew, of his virginity, and as much as he'd like to say he was man enough for John to rush things, he couldn't do anything but moan constantly. Slowly, he could feel John starting to tease fingers in as well, fingers slicked up with something, though Sherlock didn't know what it was, or when John had grabbed it, but it was making things easier, so he assumed it was a lubricant of some sort.

 _I have to assume things._ the thought blew through his mind, just a hint at what it meant. He wasn't able to pay enough attention to details to know for certain if it was lube in his ass, or what type of lube it was. Really, it was the most beautiful feeling he'd ever known, even better than it had been fucking John. Because unlike all those times, this time he could just take it. There was no need to worry about John's needs, because John was doing that. John was taking care of Sherlock and himself at the same time. Was this why John had never asked him if he could top before? Because he enjoyed just giving in to Sherlock so much?

“More, god John, more.” There were three fingers now, a burning stretch followed by a need for something more, something solid filling him. He knew it would hurt, especially if John listened to him and did it _now_ , but he needed it. He could feel that he needed the pain as much as the pleasure that would follow after. “Now, John, I need to feel you. Please.”

He could feel the hitch in John's breath at his words, followed by a chaste kiss from those lips to his stretched entrance as the fingers left him. He felt so empty now, he could hardly wait to feel full once more. Then John was easing himself in, long hard cock sliding into his slicked ass. The lube wasn't enough to stop the burn as he was stretched, but it was enough to let John keep pressing in, filling him completely. It was a tight fit, and not just because he had never done this before. He could feel John's shaft, every inch of him, and John hadn't been joking when he said he had a knot. He could feel that bulge at the base, fitting the cock snugly inside him, holding it there, and the feeling brought a moan to his lips.

John's answering groan was almost a growl, deep in his throat. Evidently, he took the moan for a sign that it was okay, and then began to move. Slowly he pulled out, letting Sherlock feel the stretch caused by his swollen cock, only to plunge back in, deep and hard. Over and over he repeated the action, slow and steady. Sherlock was quivering beneath him, breathy moans begging for more, yet still he kept on, no sign of changing.

Almost no sign, that is. Sherlock could tell, slightly, that the longer John did this, fucked his ass, kept up that heavenly rhythm, hitting his prostate with every slow thrust; the longer he did this, the more pronounced the knot became. It was a gradual change, so that if he didn't have the time to pay attention to just how much he was being stretched, he'd never have known.

“God, John, please. I need more.” he whimpered, his body on the brink of so much, and yet still so far away.

“Sherlock.” John's voice was a deep whisper in his ear, hot breath dancing over his skin as he spoke. “It may hurt. If I stop holding back, I don't know what will happen. I won't be able to stop myself anymore. Is this what you want?”

“You, John, all of you. Now. Please.” He let out a shuddering breath as John stilled, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's shoulder. Then John was in, and he stopped pulling all the way out. How moving his hips so minimally could make Sherlock feel so good, he didn't know, but the feeling was there. John's hands bruising his hips with a tight grip, his cock rubbing against his prostate, Sherlock didn't want it to end, but knew it would, soon.

“You're going to be so full of my seed.” John's voice was a whisper in his ear, heated and hoarse. “And more than that, you're going to be full of my cock. We're probably going to fall asleep like this. And we may even wake up like this. Would you like that, waking up with me still inside you? Waking up to me fucking you in my sleep because your ass feels so damn good?”

Sherlock let out a whimper, the words or the tone of voice taking him another step closer to the edge. Then John bit down on his shoulder, a firm grip of his teeth that caused Sherlock's back to arch and his orgasm to start. “John!” The name was all he could say, a single scream, before he was lost in an orgasm so powerful he couldn't breath.

He could feel the teeth tightening on his shoulder, and then John was cuming, too. He could feel it, a violent release of seed inside him, only unlike his own orgasm, it wasn't stopping. He whimpered in pleasure, near collapsing to the bed, feeling John follow, pulled down with him by their connections. Somehow, they managed to arrange themselves on their sides on the bed, John's arms gentle around him, his lips pressing soft kisses to Sherlock's shoulders as if he wasn't still inside him, filling him in so many ways. It was surprisingly comfortable for Sherlock. He smiled as he remembered John's heated words. Waking up to being fucked. God that sounded so good, even if he wouldn't be able to walk for at least a week.


End file.
